You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison
by PartyGhoul
Summary: So this is my first fanfic and first Frerard! AU, MCR in prison! Inspired by another fanfic that got cancelled. Frank's attracted to Gerard, and vice-versa, but Gerard's an insane killer... Includes My Chemical Romance, Green Day, Panic! At The Disco.
1. Ch 1: Say Goodbye to the Life You Make

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! This is my first Fanfic and first Frerard! If you hate MCR, Green Day, P!ATD, Frerard, or homosexuality, then GTFO ^_^ Now if the beginning sounds familiar, I'd like to admit that I read a fanfic that was about them all in jail and started out quite like this, but the author cancelled it and that upset me, so I decided I'd take the basic idea of them being in jail, make it my own, and FINISH IT! It's actually already finished, but I'm only posting the first chapter for now, in hopes to get some interest, etc. etc. **

**So without further ado, let us commence le fanfic! Y'all know the disclaimer, i don't own My Chem, Green Day, Or Panic! At The Disco, because I was taught it's rude to keep people under your bed, blah blah blah. **

**Please Read and Review! **

**~PartyGhoul**

* * *

"Guilty."

That was it. I was guilty. I'd be sent to an "experimental" prison—"experimental" because it wasn't your conventional prison—out in the desert.

_Better go pack my bags,_ I thought.

* * *

The bus bumped along the unpaved road, jolting me in all directions in my seat. It was especially bad for me, because I'm pretty small. Bigger guys—like my seat-mate, who looked like he could've carried the bus to the prison—hardly moved at all.

Finally, the bus came to a stop. The driver instructed us all off in an orderly fashion—door-side first, then driver's-side, and so on. I was one of the last ones off. I stood behind everyone as they were crowded around a tall, mustachioed man with reflective sunglasses, making it impossible to see his eyes.

"My name's Mr. Reynolds, but y'all'll call me 'Sir'," he barked in a thick Southern accent. "Understand?"

Mumbled "yessir"'s could be heard throughout the crowd.

"What did you say?" Sir demanded.

"Yes, Sir!" the prisoners called in unison.

"Much better," Sir replied. "Now, I'm goings to assign y'all yer division head. This person'll lead y'all to yer cell. They'll also supervise the division, chaperone y'all around, and the like, to make sure y'all don't git in no trouble, y'hear?"

A few "yes, Sir"'s answered him, and he seemed satisfied. Or didn't feel like demanding a proper response; I couldn't tell.

"Now, then. Let's get to assignin' yer division head." Sir announced.

I'm in about the middle of the alphabet, so I zoned out after the first couple names. I started to look around me. The bus pulled away and was driving towards the back of the property, I assumed to a garage. We were inside a tall, concrete, barbed-wire-topped fence. Before us loomed a massive concrete building. A few prisoners in bright orange jumpsuits hung around the fence, a lot of them staring at us. But one of the guys caught my attention, and captured it.

He had shockingly-unnatural short, snow-white hair. His eyeliner-rimmed eyes were shut and his pale, milky cheeks were caved in as he took a long draw on a cigarette. Ashe exhaled, his eyes opened. Those eyes! A dark, almost-brown hazel pierced through the swirls of smoke. Those eyes…

"FOR THE LAST DAMN TIME: FRANK IERO!" Sir roared.

I snapped to attention. "Ye-…yes, Sir?" I said timidly, standing up.

"Well what the hell are y'all doin' standin' there? Get your ass up here!" he yelled.

I fast-walked up to him. His face was red from rage and the effort of yelling.

He regained his composure somewhat when I approached him. "Frank Iero. Your division head is Miss Alicia Simmons." He gestured to a young woman, about my age, standing near him. She looked a bit scary. She was dressed head-to-toe in black. Her long hair was raven and razor-cut so it appeared a bit spiky at the ends. Her eyes were thickly rimmed with black eyeliner. She never spoke a word to me, just simply lead me into the building, down the hall, and to a door marked "Division B".

She scanned a card and the door unlocked. She led me in. Behind the door was a hallway, which was short—maybe 15 feet—and had eight doors total: three on each side of the hallway, and one across from the doorway I was standing in. Each door on the sides was made with a thick metal, with a window the size of a square foot, and a handle with a keypad lock. The door I was standing in was the thickest metal of all, with a larger, about 2ft-by-3ft frosted glass window and the scanner lock. The door opposite me was the thinnest door; simple metal with a standard push-button lock on the handle.

"That there's the bathroom," Alicia said, pointing to that door. It was the first time I'd heard her speak, and I nearly jumped. "These six doors on the sides are for your division-mates."

We started walking down the hall.

"This on the left belongs to Ray and Bob," Alicia waved a hand to that door. Two men, I estimated around six foot each, sat, hunched over, on the lower bunk of a bunk bed. One had a brown 'fro, and the other had straight, average-length blond hair and a short blond beard. They appeared to be reading a comic book.

"Here on the right's Brendon and Spencer." I could hear one guy with short, dark-brown hair singing about eyes the size of the moon, and I could see another guy with longer, slightly lighter-brown hair playing air drums.

We continued down the hall to the next two doors. Pointing to her right, Alicia said, "This here's Mikey and Pedicone, but they're outside right now. So're Tré and Billie Joe." She pointed to the door on her left.

We walked to the last set of doors.

"Jamia and Lindsey," Alicia stated simply, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the door on her right. "Normally we don't mix guys and girls, but we had an overflow of guys, and so we had to make some divisions co-ed."

I peered in the window. One girl had long black hair, tied into pigtails, and was playing air guitar (or maybe bass), occasionally writing musical notes on the wall with marker. The other girl had short black hair, falling across her face as she lay in the upper bunk, asleep.

"This is your cell." Alicia said abruptly, and I darted my eyes away from the girls and to the door on my left. "2019," she typed the numbers on the keypad and the door unlocked with a _click_. Alicia pushed it open, revealing its contents.


	2. Ch 2: Come One, Come All

**A/N: I'm super duper sorry I took freaking forever to update. We lost power, and then my battery back-up device (into which my computer was plugged) stopped working and so we need a new one. It finally occurred to me to move plugs around so that I could get my computer up-and-running so I could update. D'oh.**

**Aaaanyway, here's chapter two. Read&Review, I generally wait until I get at least one review before I update again. This chappie's a tad boring, just some intros, but important. Hopefully I'll get reviews soon, which means I'll update soon, which means you'll get closer to more exciting parts! :D**

**Keep Running,**

**~PartyGhoul**

* * *

The room was small, about five feet by ten feet I'd guessed, but comfortable. I was glad; I was afraid I would get claustrophobic in the cell.

A bunk-bed stood against the long wall. I was too short to see the top bunk easily, but gathering from what was visible, it was messed up, as if someone had just slept in it. The bottom bunk, however, was a sheeted mattress with a blanket, sheet, pillow, and two jumpsuits—one orange, one striped black-and-white—folded on it. Below the bed were two drawers. One was slightly opened and had various items spilling out of it. The other was wide open. It contained three more orange jumpsuits, two striped jumpsuits, a towel, a cup, a toothbrush, an ankle clamp, and a wristband. I picked up the wristband and examined it.

_Name: IERO (Jr.), FRANK ANTHONY THOMAS_

_DOB: 10-31-1981 ID: 77778081_

_Sec. No.: 3 Division: B Cell No.: 3B5_

"Gerard's your cellmate." Alicia said plainly. "And like I said, the door at the end is the bathroom." She moved her hand apathetically in the appropriate direction. "There's soap and toothpaste in there. No more than ten minutes in there at a time.

"The day's schedule comes every morning through the slot on the door. Stuff marked in red's mandatory. No weapons, keep fights to a minimum."

I couldn't help but notice she never said "no fights."

"You can't leave the division without me," She carried on. "I assure you, you'll be under constant supervision." She gave a wicked smirk. "Even when you think you're not," she added as a seemingly unnecessarily ominous afterthought.

With that, she turned on a booted heel and walked out the door, leaving me alone.

Alone, with…with these _strangers._ These strangers, whom are _criminals._

_Well you're a criminal too, Frank, _I thought to myself. I shuddered at the thought.

My thoughts were scattered by a _click_ and a _bang _as the Division door opened. Alicia walked in and held the door. Five men stood in the doorway.

"Like I said this morning, you guys, we've got a new guy." Alicia announced, in response to which there were some unsettling chuckles. "Everyone introduce yourselves." She knocked on the doors to occupied cells. "You too!" she raised her voice so that it would travel through the metal.

"God, a fucking newbie." A spikey-haired guy ceased conversation with the weird-looking dude beside him to groan at me. "I'm Billie Joe." He rolled his eyes before continuing down the hall to his room.

"I'm Tré." Billie Joe's (I assumed) friend said, nodding to me, looking even odder than earlier, before turning and following Billie Joe to their shared cell.

"Pedicone." A tanned, rude-looking guy with a shaved head muttered to me as he passed on the way to his cell.

"I'm Ray!" The tall Fro from the first room said cheerily, extending his hand to me.

"I'm Frank," I said, smiling. I decided I liked Ray.

Ray stepped aside and his blond, bearded cellmate stepped forward. My name's Bob." He said, barely above a mumble. He then followed Ray back to their cell.

"Brendon." The singing guy stated. "Spencer." He pointed to the drummer. "Frank?" He pointed at me.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Cool." He and Spencer went back to their room.

The girls walked up next. "Hey, I'm Jamia!" The pixie-cut said. I realized then she was rather pretty. Maybe if I liked girls, I'd find her attractive. Her dark hair framed her flawless, soft face perfectly. Her brown eyes were, for the most part, warm and inviting, but had this slight, cold spark to them. Not unlike that of a criminal.

"Hellooo? Earth to Frank!" Jamia waved her hand in front of my face and grinned.

"Oh, uh, er, um, hi." I said nervously.

Jamia giggled, and stepped back so her roommate could meet me.

"Lindsey." The pigtailed girl said between chews on a piece of gum. She held out her hand, and I shook it awkwardly.

"I'm Frank."

"I know."

With that, she turned on her heel and started walking back to her cell. "Come on, Jamia," she said without turning her head. Jamia followed her like an obedient puppy.

_God, I miss my dogs, _I thought. _All 9,874,328,943,765_ _of them._

My thoughts were jerked away when I saw the final two men.

One was relatively tall—about 5'10", I estimated—and had brown-blond hair, straight and tucked under his thick, black-and-white glasses. He was skinny, and his odd stance made his knees turn in and look awkward. His face was perfectly void of emotion: his mouth was smoothed into an even line, his eyebrows level and eyes blank, as if apathy was his only known expression.

"That's Mikey. He's Gerard's brother." Alicia said, almost dreamily, which weirded me out a little. Mikey looked up for only a moment, but I hardly noticed anyway; by then, I was focused on the man behind him.

I recognized him immediately; he was the guy I saw outside earlier. He was even more attractive up-close. His bright-white hair was short and even. It was even whiter than his pale skin, and contrasted sharply with his dark eyebrows. Hazel, nearly-brown eyes sparkled with interest and gleamed with insanity. His thin lips stretched into a smile.

"Hey. I'm Gerard." He spoke. When I just gawked at him like an idiot, he continued. "So I guess we're cellmates?"

I nodded dazedly.

Gerard curled his lips into a grin. "Good," he said, and started walking towards the cell door.

I followed him.

He stopped in the doorway and looked at me over his shoulder. "I can't _wait_ to get to know you." His words seemed kind, and almost romantic (or maybe I just wanted them to). But I couldn't help but notice that they were also tinged with insanity.


End file.
